Bubble
by information specialist
Summary: "They'd been so happy. It was like living in a safe, love filled bubble. Didn't she feel it too?" A collection of Season 4 episode tags. Quote from new Pink Tops tag; re-uploaded after a an edit.  Spoilers!
1. Semi Precious: a Blood and Sand Tag

**Semi-Precious: a Blood and Sand Episode Tag **

DISCLAIMER: The Mentalist does not belong to me. It is the creation of Bruno Heller. I'm writing this fiction to express my love for the series and maybe vent a little.

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><p>Something was up with Jane.<p>

He keeps asking me to drink tea when he knows full well I like coffee.

And something is up with me, because I keep agreeing even though I prefer coffee.

It's recent, this urge to humor him and is a result of a change I'm sensing within him. There's just something so sad, yet peaceful about him these days, like he's somehow gained equilibrium.

I guess on some level I'm scared of doing anything that may upset that. Because I can't remember the last time I saw Jane so...well, himself; his wise yet carefree self.

Certainly not since Kristina's disappearance.

I also can't remember the last time we were so relaxed with each other either. Like no promises of death or ultimatums of jail were ever exchanged between us.

Certainly not since he shared his plot for revenge with me almost three years ago.

There is still darkness within those sea colored eyes, and I think there always will be. But it's no longer all encompassing like it was last year.

Strange, since he insists that Red John is still alive.

I mean, if he really believes that wouldn't he be more on edge, at least as obsessed as he was? Or could it be that killing the wrong guy gave him some perspective, made him realize if he was wrong about thinking he had Red John, then he could also be wrong about revenge making anything better.

That is, if Timothy Carter is in fact _not_ Red John, which I'm still not convinced of. While I'm in no way happy with Jane having killed a man, the prospect that he's finally finished with his vengeance and is still in one piece does have its appeal. Though a part of me knows that's probably just wishful thinking. Hence the fear, hence the humoring.

I feel like we're in a bubble. A beautiful bubble where he gives me a piece of quartz he found and I keep it instead of throwing it away, like it's something precious, when it's only semi-precious.

A bubble where I agree that I could in fact make a necklace out said stone instead of mocking him for his sentimentalism and being insulted by his presumption that I need a relaxing hobby.

A bubble where, as he falls asleep next to me on the boat on our way back to the mainland, I let him lean against me instead of shoving him awake like I want to. No, not want...like I _need_ to.

But I don't. I sit perfectly still, looking back at the island we left, as if completely unaware of him flush against my side, unaware of his arm caught between us, when on the inside I'm relishing the contact. Reveling in the feeling of sharing the same air, the breathing space in this invisible bubble we're in, for once feeling happy, safe even.

It's a paradox as the fear is still there. Because I learned at a very young age that bubbles aren't meant to last. They're bound to burst someday, leaving behind tearful drops, the only proof of their existence before those too evaporate into thin air, never to be seen again.

I force myself to push that thought away and run my fingers across the jagged edge of the rock in my pocket, dig the pads of my fingers into it.

As the boat gets closer to the mainland, the waves get stronger and the jarring rouses him.

Jane glances at me sleepily then smiles bemusedly when he realizes he had been practically using my shoulder as a pillow. I roll my eyes at his raised eyebrow as the boat comes to a stop at the dock.

I climb out wordlessly before offering my hand to help him out as well. He accepts and his hand is warm from being stuck between us while he was asleep. It had been cold when he'd given me the quartz.

I'm still holding it in my other hand in my pants pocket.

He gives me a big smile. Like I just did him a huge favor when all I did was help him off the boat.

"Would you like some tea when we get back?"

I answer without thinking.

"Sure, why not?"

His grin softens into something more meaningful.

He's so weird, I think, as we walk to his car; another concession I've been making more often.

He drives, humming lowly to a tune playing on my favorite jazz station. I keep palming the translucent stone in my pocket and look out the window trying to control the lump that suddenly forms in the back of my throat.

I doubt I'll make a necklace out of it. I already have one that I never take off.

But I'll keep it as a souvenir.

Even if our bubble bursts, I'll have proof that it did in fact exist.

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><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>

Hello everyone. I'm extremely sorry for those who've been waiting on my "Mend" sequel. I am working on it, I swear, but I've been so busy writing reviews for this season that I barely have time for anything else. Plus I went through a "Mentalist is depressing me" stage where I could barely stand to read or write fanfics. But this story wrote itself after that yesterday's lovely episode. Hopefully it'll break my curse. I'd be very grateful if you let me know what you think.


	2. Selfish: a Where in the World Tag

**Selfish: an episode tag for 'Where in the World is Carmine O'Brian' **

DISCLAIMER: The Mentalist does not belong to me. It is the creation of Bruno Heller. I'm writing this fiction to express my love for the series and maybe vent a little.

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><p>Sitting at the bar in O'Malley's pub, Lisbon gulped down the burning liquid, wondering if she had enough.<p>

Two was usually her limit. And she's had two. But she so wanted another, and another, then another.

Except she knew that drinking all the alcohol in the world wouldn't make her feel better; her father had taught her that.

But Jane had endangered her brother's life today.

She didn't know why she was surprised. Last year he'd had Grace get on a potentially dangerous horse. Oh, he'd stated he was pretty sure the horse was fine, but that didn't change the fact that he'd been careless with someone else's life, as if it weren't bad enough when he risked his own.

But today, he actually used her brother as bait to lure a disturbed crack-head.

_No, not Jane_.

The final decision had been hers.

Staring at her empty glass Lisbon remembered their conversation (if it could be called that) on their way to the hotel.

"You're saying the hotel manager's son, Chad, killed Chief Green because she caught him dealing drugs?"

"Yes."

"And he also killed the kid he was dealing to."

"Yes, he panicked."

"And Chad thinks Carmine O'Brian witnessed everything?"

"Well, his dad Phillip knows, so Chad is bound to hear about it."

" And you want me to tell him that my brother is on his way to the hotel, with this fake potential witness you created."

"Exactly," Jane beamed.

Lisbon whacked him in the shoulder with her right fist, as hard as she could while keeping the steering wheel steady with her left hand.

"Ow! What was that for, woman?" Jane snapped.

She turned furious eyes on him.

"Are you for real! You set up O'Brian without telling me, you give him to my brother behind my back, and now you want me to send Tommy to a man who killed two people, what do you think that was for?" she shrieked, turning her eyes in the road just in time to swerve away from a car that, in her rage, she'd gotten too close to. But instead of slowing down she accelerated. Jane did up his seat belt; and Lisbon could tell he wanted to remind her to do hers as well but knew better than to talk to her when she was so worked up.

The fact that her brother wasn't answering his cell only increased her stress.

"It's probably on silent," Jane said.

"Shut up."

"And I could be wrong about Chad."

"How humble of you," she said with a snort.

"You really think Tommy is that helpless?" Jane's tone was hard, causing Lisbon to glance at him. He actually looked angry.

_Of all the nerve!_

Before she could start on him, Jane continued "He's a grown man, he's got a gun, and he's as legally qualified as you are to catch criminals. Why not use him?"

"Jane," she threatened. He was getting on her last nerve, and his tone, as if _she_ were in the wrong pissed her off. That, and the feeling that he was still holding out on her, that she was missing something important.

"Look at it this way, here's your chance to prove to him that he's not cut out for this job," Jane said sarcastically, before adding in a more neutral tone "And you get to do it while having his back to make sure nothing bad happens."

"That's great. And, if he dies, at least it'll be for a good cause, I'll have the satisfaction of knowing I was right."

She saw the anger flare up in Jane's eyes once again.

_What the hell is his problem?_

"Look, Lisbon, I get that you're angry, but if you don't pull it together you'll be the one who gets him killed. You can yell at me as much as you want later, okay?"

"Oh believe me, I will, Jane. In fact, you better hope that yelling is all I'll do," she vowed, dialing her brother's phone one more time, "and Tommy's not getting killed because we're not doing this." Jane looked outside the car window, no doubt sulking because she wouldn't go along with his plan.

Thankfully, Tommy finally answered his phone.

"Hey, Reese. I was just going to text to thank you."

"What?"

"For letting me have Carmine. That was your guy wasn't it, who gave him to me?"

Lisbon turned to look at Jane in wonder. At his meaningful look the light bulb finally went on in her head.

Jane didn't need Tommy for his ruse. He could have used Rigsby.

He only involved her brother to give her a chance to work things out between them. Using Tommy would give her a chance to show her brother that she didn't think was a loser.

"Teresa? Hello?"

But could she do it?

"Listen, Tommy, when you reach the inn, don't go inside, just call Annabeth and have her meet you in the car."

"What's going on?"

"There's a potential criminal inside, we suspect he killed two people. He thinks that your guy Carmine witnessed him."

"How would he know that?"

"It doesn't matter now, it's not even true" she said, glaring at Jane, who raised his hands in defense, "But he's dangerous so stay away from him. Wait until I show up."

"Wait, you want to catch this guy right? If he thinks Carmine witnessed him, and if he knows I've got him, we could…"

"Don't even think about it, Tommy."

"Why not? I could get him to confess."

"No."

"Because I'm not good enough to handle perps like you?"

"Because I'm worried about you, dumbass!"

There was silence on the other end of the phone. Unbidden, an image of a younger Tommy, just as stubborn and just as prideful came to her mind, screaming at her that she never gave him a chance to prove that he's changed.

Maybe he had. Despite everything, he didn't seem as reckless as before. He couldn't be, not with a daughter. Responsibility had a way of grounding people, she knew that too well.

She looked at Jane. He gave her a sympathetic and encouraging look.

It melted her heart even as she wanted to punch him. Taking a deep breath, she came to a decision.

"You're right, you're a grown man, and it's not like you're completely new at this. In fact, after all I've done for you, it's about time you start paying me back. Here's what we'll do…"

Afterwards, she gave Carmine to her brother, not because he'd convinced her he was good at his job. If anything, seeing the crack-head hold a gun to her brother made her even more certain that his new career was a bad idea. No, she'd given him Carmine because dealing with Jane taught her that once someone's mind is made up, nothing you do or say can change it.

Not even if the reason you disagree is because you're concerned about them.

When Teresa's eyes started to water she decided that one more shot wouldn't hurt and gestured to the barkeep for a refill.

Was she really that overbearing?

She knew how to shut up. She's had over seven years of practice. She could swallow her concern and advice.

The fact that her loved ones didn't want it didn't mean they didn't need it.

So she'll save her opinion for the day they actually ask her for it. But that would be impossible if they felt like they couldn't talk to her. She had to accept them for who they were. Even they were careless, selfish, manipulative creeps with death wishes.

It's not like she was that different was she? She'd endangered her brother's life today simply to keep the peace between them. Didn't that make her selfish? And she was turning a blind eye on Grace's post traumatic stress because she hoped the younger woman would manage without her interference; because now that they were actually friends she didn't want the boss in her to ruin it.

That was selfish as well.

Lisbon finished her drink, threw some money on the bar and stood up to leave. When she turned around, she saw Jane sitting at a table near the door, drinking tea, as if he were at Lydia's tea house instead of a bar.

For some reason she wasn't surprised to see him there. She didn't expect it, but she wasn't surprised. When their eyes met, he placed some bills at the table and got up as well, holding the door open for her as she exited the establishment.

His car was parked out in front.

Jane stood silently, no doubt waiting for her to decide if she'd let him take her home, or if she'd take a cab. As if there was really any question on what she would do.

Glancing sideways at him, Teresa was startled to see actual doubt in his mind, along with sadness.

Maybe there was.

She had forgiven him, he must know that. She'd gone along with his plan hadn't she? But looking at him now, hands in his pockets looking anywhere else but at her, Lisbon realized that the time it had taken her to agree had him worried.

Just like the time she was now taking to get in his car was also making him nervous.

Lisbon opened the passenger door and got in. Staring straight ahead, she was grateful that her peripheral vision allowed her to see the joy in Jane's eyes without him knowing about it.

She didn't want him to be edgy, not with her, because that would just make him hold out on her. She could be she could lie to her brother to appease him, she could pretend that she was okay with Jane. After all, her anger had nothing to do with his actions.

She was the problem. He was getting too close, _and she was letting him._ She was so reluctant to leave this safe bubble of understanding him that she was allowing it to expand, even as she knew she was just delaying the inevitable.

Was that selfish too?

From beneath her lashes, Lisbon saw that Jane's eyes fixed straight ahead on the road. And while his hands were relaxed at the steering wheel, his jaw was as tense as it had been that day when she'd yelled at him.

She now knew why he'd been so furious.

Jane should have known his actions would upset her… unless he assumed she'd figure out why he he'd given Carmine to Tommy; that he was trying to help her build bridges.

It now occurred to her that the risk Jane had taken wasn't with her brother's life, but with her regard for him. But Jane had trusted that she would eventually understand, would forgive him once she figured out where his heart was…with her.

But she'd been too angry to realize it.

Lisbon looked determinedly out the car's window, blinking back her emotions.

Was being selfish always this painful?

"You know Lisbon, not worrying about others means you can actually take care of yourself. There's nothing wrong with that, or with letting others look out for you too," Jane ventured quietly.

He sounded so unsure; so unlike himself that she just had to look at him, see the expression on his face.

His eyes were as glassy as hers. Maybe he too felt this precious little bubble they were sharing. Maybe he was just as scared of having it burst and disappear.

But not scared enough to stop from looking out for her.

The car stopped at her condo. Neither spoke. There was no need. Instead, they smiled at each other.

Watery smiles.

Getting down from the car, Lisbon thought that perhaps being selfish once in a while wasn't such a terrible thing.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>

I had to re-watch the episode a few times before I decided that I liked it. I think the reason was this one hit a little too close to home. Plus, it seemed very out of character for Lisbon to use her brother to catch the perp. This fic was an attempt to explore what her reasons may have been. Thoughts? Please share.


	3. Trustworthy Instincts: Blinking Red Tag

**Trustworthy Instincts: A Blinking Red Light Episode Tag**

DISCLAIMER: The Mentalist does not belong to me. It is the creation of Bruno Heller. I'm writing this fiction to express my love for the series and maybe vent a little.

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><p>No liquor. Not this time.<p>

The way she was feeling these days, it could dangerously become a habit.

Instead, after leaving Panser's crime scene, she went home and ran a bath. No bubbles, she didn't have any. But she got the water so hot it was close to scalding.

And still it didn't warm her. Not the cold which came from within; which seemed like it would now take permanent residence in her gut.

_See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil._

Jane always said he didn't tell her things to give her deniability; to keep her safe from the repercussions of his actions. She always called him an idiot; if she knows what he is planning then she was in a better position to alleviate the situation. Or put a stop to it.

But would she have that night? She didn't even bother to ask him where he was going.

And even if she had…

_I can just see how that conversation would have gone: "You're not the boss of me, if I want to give an interview I will."_

But she might have at least asked him what he was going to do. If she had, would he have said that he'd try to get Panser to confess on air?

Or would he have told her he'd get Red John to kill Panser?

Worse, would he have lied about only trying to get Panser to confess when all along he planned on getting him killed?

_I don't know…_

She'd said that during their case as well, when Jane had her pick out their most likely suspect from a list of eight.

"Come on, you've been a cop for a long time, what you don't know is how much you know without knowing you know it."

Those words, so encouraging at the time, came back to taunt her now.

Why didn't she ask Jane where he was going?

Was it because she didn't think he'd do anything bad, or because she thought he might and preferred not knowing unequivocally?

_I don't know!_

"Trust your instincts."

Something else he told her during their case.

_He makes it sound so easy; which instincts should I trust?  
><em>  
>Her motherly instincts that saw him as a replica of Tommy; a disturbed brother she needed to keep out of trouble?<p>

Her daughter's instincts that saw his situation as being that of her father's; a bereaved husband still grieving, still at risk of killing himself in his loneliness?

Her friend's instinct (this was a new one); who pointed out that she needs to fair and kept citing the progress he's made?

Her jaded cop instincts? These were the worst; unforgiving, they felt and saw the hard truth of his actions and knew that an intervention was necessary.

Then there was her inner child's instincts; too comfortable in her life and afraid of change. These were the ones that had her hide her father's alcoholism and abuse; preferring to suffer them and make her brothers suffer them in silence out of fear that they would be separated. That whatever memory of the life they had together would be destroyed if people found out how bad things really were.

She never knew if it had been worth it to her brothers and she was always too scared to ask.

She should know better now, except, apparently she didn't.

She didn't know if it was worth it in this situation either. Worse, she wasn't a child anymore. She had no excuse for not knowing.

_Guess that makes me a coward, a selfish coward. _

She was still too scared to act; too scared to stop hoping that things could improve.

Too scared of leaving this bubble they were in, the one that was feeling less like a warm safe womb and more like a ward's locked room.

_A locked room...  
><em>  
>Would they take him back there if they find out what he is?<p>

All this time she thought she could save him from the law, from Red John, even thought she could save him from his revenge.

What she was never assured of was if she could save him from himself. From the arrogance and madness and guilt and need to overcompensate and apologize and redeem himself, without ever realizing he was just giving himself more things he will need to be redeemed for.

Lowering herself deeper into the bathtub, Lisbon remembers her vow to wait and her stomach churns with an acidity that has nothing to do with the gallons of coffee she'd drunk that day.

She had promised herself to keep her mouth shut. She'd swallow her tongue if she had to.

Until the time was right.

_So far, I have no proof he meant to get Panser killed. And if he did, then there is no way to prove it, nothing I can do about it. Talking to him will just put him on the defense. I need him open.  
><em>  
>There will come a time when he needs her, when her interference will actually matter; have a chance at making a change. She'll save everything, all her observations, all the evidence of his madness for that time.<p>

"Trust your instincts."

_At that time, we'll see if he trusts me anywhere nearly as much as he wants me to trust him.  
><em>  
>At that time, <em>he'll<em> have to trust her instincts, to prove that they are in fact trustworthy.

Because one thing Jane is not, he is not a hypocrite; at least not intentionally so.

He'll have to trust her; there was no other option, or else he'll burst their bubble, destroy their friendship, and only have himself to blame.

"Trust your instincts"

Her cop instincts, the only ones she'd let lead her for the longest time were telling her to go to Wainwright, call up Sophie Miller, or anyone who can get this vigilante off the street.

"Trust your instincts."

Lucky for Jane, she was neither presumptuous nor arrogant enough to always follow her instincts.

_Nor do I trust him enough to believe him when he says I should._

What she did trust was time. Time had a way of making things clearer; better. It was the only thing that never failed her.

Feeling a little better, Lisbon got out of the now tepid water. After drying herself, she got into her favorite jersey, some sweatpants and a robe for additional warmth.

She pondered drinking some herbal tea before bed as it always made Jane feel better, but decided she'd had more than enough of his suggestions that day, and would no doubt be getting more still at work.

Instead, she said her hail Marys before getting into bed, adding an extra prayer after she closed her eyes.

_Please, let the right time not be too late._

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><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>

Special thanks to Little Mender for her support and friendly ear when I much needed it after that last episode. This tag is dedicated to all the fans who were as heartbroken as I by Blinking Red Light. All we can do is hope…To Miss Donnie whom I couldn't reply to (PM messaging is disabled) thank you for your reviews, they mean a lot. Also, Touching Little Story, I'm trying, desperately, to not let the season depress me. Your kind review certainly helped.


	4. Chinese Wall: Pink Tops pre episode Tag

**Chinese Wall: Pre-episode tag for Pink Tops**

DISCLAIMER: The Mentalist does not belong to me. It is the creation of Bruno Heller. I'm writing this fiction to express my love for the series and maybe vent a little.

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><p>A look. That was all it took to agree that, until people stop asking questions, there would be a Chinese wall between them.<p>

There was always someone barging into her office, either looking for Jane or wanting to see her, and they both knew it wouldn't be in their interest to be seen together; it might lead to them being questioned together.

And that would be awkward, possibly dangerous.

So Lisbon stayed in her office and Jane stayed on his bullpen couch. No attic, at least not that she was aware of. She was grateful for that. It meant he wasn't back to pulling away.

_Or maybe he realizes how bad it would look if people found him hiding there..._

Looking into her coffee cup, another thought occurred to Lisbon.

_At least now I don't have to worry about getting used to Jane's tea...his Kool Aid..that is, if I haven't already...  
><em>

A rap on her door startled Lisbon from her ironic musings. Careful to keep her wariness off her face she gestured for FBI Agent Susan Darcy to come in.

"What can I do for you Agent?"

"I wanted your opinion on the Panser homicide," Darcy said briskly, sitting down across Lisbon's desk.

"My opinion?"

"Do you think Panser was killed by Red John? That your consultant Jane shot and killed the wrong man? Or was Panser killed by a Red John fan; a copycat?"

"You don't beat around the bush do you?" Lisbon said with a smile, stalling.

"I didn't think I had to with you."

The woman's words could have been either a compliment or an insult. But Teresa wouldn't dwell on that and instead gave her a direct reply.

"I don't know."

The phrase was starting to get old for Lisbon. It pretty much summed up everything regarding Jane. More disturbingly, lately, it was starting to sum up how she felt about herself as well.

Darcy looked incredulous.

"You don't know?"

"No, I don't," Lisbon replied firmly.

"How many years have you been working the Red John case Agent Lisbon?"

"Not as many as Jane."

"So I should ask him because he knows more about the case than you do? Is that your official statement?"

"My official statement?" Teresa kept her tone light. "I wasn't aware this was an interrogation Agent Darcy."

Susan looked a bit abashed. Lisbon wasn't sure if it the embarrassment was fake or genuine.

Just another unknown for her these days. But as it's been almost a week since Panser's death; Lisbon did know that she was sick of the case.

And that she had a reputation to keep.

"Here's my 'official statement', Agent. Unlike Jane, who was specifically hired for his ability to make accurate and educated guesses, I prefer withholding my judgment on matters that are not clear."

Susan seemed intrigued.

"What's not clear about Panser having been killed for mocking a serial killer everyone thought was dead on television?"

"The exact questions you raised: we don't know if he was killed by Red John or a fan or a copycat," Lisbon pointed, "Until I have more information, I'm assuming nothing," she stated firmly, letting Darcy know that she'd get nothing from this fishing expedition.

"Fair enough," Susan said standing up. Her tone was nice enough but Lisbon couldn't like something in the woman's eyes as she nodded her goodbye. It was as if, by telling her nothing, Darcy thought that Lisbon had in fact given her something.

Lisbon's suspicion only intensified when she noticed that, as Darcy walked right past Jane in the hall, she acknowledged him with only a friendly hello; no ambush, no questions.

It gave her a bad feeling; like she and Jane should talk soon about what had happened.

Watching Jane settle in his bullpen couch, without even a glance towards her office, Lisbon decided she'd need to get some sleep first.

It's been a tough week, and she'd need all her energy for the inevitable conversation. She felt tired, and a little heartbroken, just thinking about it.

But it had to be done.

_Who knew bursting a bubble would be so hard._

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><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>

*shameless plug* For those interested, Little Mender was kind enough to lend her invaluable insight and help me review episode Blinking Red Light. You can find a link on my author's page. *plug over*

This episode tag has two parts. As the title states, this chapter takes place before episode Pink Tops. I'll post the second chapter in a few days. Reviews are much appreciated.


	5. Bringing down the Wall: a Pink Tops Tag

**Bringing Down the Wall: (second)Pink Tops Tag**

DISCLAIMER: The Mentalist does not belong to me. It is the creation of Bruno Heller. I'm writing this fiction to express my love for the series and maybe vent a little.

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><p>Jane had seen Susan Darcy walk out of Lisbon's office. It had been impossible to miss her as she'd greeted him on her way out. Lisbon hadn't told him what the FBI Agent had wanted and Jane hadn't asked.<p>

In the wake of Red John's re-emergence a week prior, he and Lisbon had been avoiding each other, avoiding being seen together.

Patrick didn't care what people said about him, but Lisbon's character had to be kept safe, not tainted with his even by association. He had plenty to feel guilty for without having people think his boss had been his accomplice in a situation she'd only known about after the fact, and only because he'd confided in her. So he made sure the newly prying eyes saw nothing that might feed their suspicions any further.

But as its been a few days since Darcy, or any other detectives, intel, reporters, or bureaucrats had invaded their work home, it seemed that the storm might have finally passed.

Perhaps this was why, after their last case, Lisbon thought Jane would be willing to broach the elephant in the room.

"It's time."

She couldn't have been more wrong.

Notwithstanding his concern for Lisbon's reputation, Jane had other reasons to keep him from discussing the Red John matter with her. And for once, personal revenge was far down the list.

Listening to Lisbon type away at the case's report, it occurred to Patrick that being in her office wasn't exactly the ideal method to avoid a discussion with the woman. But he missed her. Now that the coast seemed clear, Jane wouldn't stay away from his preferred place on their white couch.

Hopefully Lisbon took his disappearing act earlier as a hint that he didn't want to talk. And in case she hadn't, Jane was pretending to be asleep, hoping she'd leave well enough alone.

Why should they talk when he knew exactly what she'd say? That Jane couldn't very well expect to get away with killing Red John a second time. Even if the double jeopardy rule applied to him (and it didn't because he'd been accused of killing Carter, not Red John), there were many people who were angry he'd gotten away with murder. They'd make sure it didn't happen again.

Jane knew this, and he knew Lisbon knew this. She'd use it in her argument on how he shouldn't be obsessed with killing Red John.

Would she believe him if he told her he wasn't even sure he wanted revenge anymore? That he'd been rethinking it ever since he realized he'd mistakenly shot Timothy Carter?

His getting Panser killed certainly wouldn't help him plead his case to Lisbon. Jane supposed he could come clean about how he honestly hadn't planned on getting Red John to kill the man. He could admit that it had been a spur of the moment decision he'd made because he couldn't the bear the thought of another serial killer going free. He could share that, had he seen any other option, he would have taken it.

Jane could tell Lisbon about how he'd actually gotten used to sleeping at night, to feeling a little better about himself, and that he hadn't wanted to ruin that. It wasn't like he enjoyed the sleepless nights. He could probably even divulge his reversion, and the fact that his conscience was mostly responsible for it after Panser's death.

It wasn't that Jane regretted the man dying, rather, Jane feared what else he might do that he would not regret.

Jane could tell Lisbon all of this, and he would, except he doubted Lisbon would believe him. He was as sure of that as he was that she wouldn't appreciate the genius of his impromptu plan to get rid of one serial killer while bringing the other back into the open.

Lisbon wouldn't believe him, because she didn't think he was a good person.

She'd practically said as much when he asked her not be offended over being a terrible liar, that good honest people always were.

"Which makes you what?" she'd asked.

It was a good question.

_What am I? What am I becoming?_

Jane had no idea. But he wasn't sure it was anything good, anything Saint Teresa would want to be associated with.

Lying on the couch, facing her, Jane dared to open his eyes to thin slits. He watched as every once in a while Lisbon harrumphed over a typo or stretched to relieve her aching shoulders.

He watched, and he wondered at the wonder that was his boss, his partner.

His friend.

Lisbon's desk phone rang. From her spiel that the CBI was not going to use or even analyze any of the DNA taken from the crime scene, that it had just been done as a ruse to lure out the real killer, Jane quickly surmised that she was talking to a lawyer of one of the inhabitants of San Felix Island. Weeks later and she was still getting calls from representatives of the self-conscious and the paranoid. Jane had been more right than he thought when he'd first said that most people on the island were running from something.

As he listened to Lisbon's pacifying, assuring tone, Jane closed his eyes fully and remembered how it had felt when, on the boat back to the mainland, he had fallen asleep next to her. His face tingled with the memory of waking up with his cheek resting on her shoulder, warm from its contact with her silky blouse, and the skin underneath it. He breathed in her presence now, and recalled the smell of her fluttering hair invading his senses.

He didn't know why she allowed that to didn't know why she was continuing to allow him liberties he'd been thirsting for practically since meeting her.

He had always wanted to be her friend. He still couldn't believe it had happened. He was in awe over the fact that even after the Carter fiasco, not only was she still working with him, she seemed to enjoy his presence. Was it that she finally realized how much he wanted her, how much he needed her?

It was a possibility, especially considering how Lisbon always put other people's needs above her own.

But she still didn't trust him, not a hundred percent, anyway. Jane was starting to think that was a good thing. Because as far as he was willing to go to earn her trust, he doubted he'd ever put her needs before his wasn't that he didn't want to. Jane just knew old habits were hard to break.

And he had always been a selfish bastard.

It was another reason why he didn't want to talk to her about Red John.

Because as happy as he had been living out of the killer's shadow, Jane couldn't deny the satisfaction he'd felt when he succeeded in luring him out.

Everything comes with a price, Jane knew this. He was willing to give up sleeping at night to settle his score with Red John.

But giving Lisbon up wasn't an option anymore. Jane wasn't sure it ever was.

Yes, he was a selfish bastard, that probably wasn't ever going to change. But Jane didn't want to be a cold one anymore. Not after he'd basked in Lisbon. Not after he'd enjoyed the privilege of having her smile warm his soul, at a time when anyone else would have frozen him out.

Somehow he'd fallen under the umbrella of people she deemed her own, her family. His terror that one day she'd decide he was more trouble than he was worth was slowly ebbing away, leaving in its wake a sense of bewilderment and fear, like it was too good to be true.

It probably was.

Someday he'd push her over the edge, do something stupid, probably over Red John, that would make Lisbon realize she should have washed her hands of him long ago.

Jane was 89.5 percent sure of it.

But that still left 10.5 percent that one day he'll actually deserve her understanding, deserve 100% of her trust.

It was a meager percent, foolish to bet on. But like putting a flower in the ocean, it gave him comfort. It was irrational comfort no doubt, but comfort nonetheless.

He needed her. Every smile, every breath... she had absorbed him, given him a reason to live, and he was terrified she'd one day let him go...

"Jane."

Startled by the closeness of her voice, Jane's eyes flew open.

Lisbon was standing right over where he lay prone on her couch. She recoiled slightly in alarm and astonishment at the moisture in Jane's eyes that he hadn't realized had welled.

Blinked away his emotions, Jane watched as Lisbon gathered herself, swallowing in concern for him.

And he knew.

She'd come for their talk.

Jane made his expression carefully neutral even as he found himself begging inwardly.

_Don't do this...  
><em>

They'd been so happy...it was like living in a safe, love filled bubble. Didn't she feel it too?

_Not now_..

He knew it would go to hell eventually, why was she in a hurry to end it?

__Not yet...__

Didn't she realize it could destroy him?

_Please don't do this!_

With bated breath Jane watched Lisbon contemplate him carefully before she finally spoke.

"Bad dream? She asked sympathetically.

Jane shut his eyes to hide his relief.

"No," he said hoarsely, opening his lids once more to stare deep into her green orbs. He cleared his throat before continuing, "a very good one."

He saw that his answer confused her.

"I'm sorry I woke you then," she replied awkwardly

Without thinking, Jane raised a hand to clasp her nearest one.

"You didn't."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>

Apparently, after ranting to the moon about Blinking Red Light and how much I hate what's going on in the show, I was finally able to make some sense of it. At least, this is the (optimistic) version I'm going with until the show decides to throw in a wrench and sends me into another rambling fury. Reviews?

BTW I reformatted the chapter a bit so I reuploaded it. Sorry for the confusion, and thanks to MerriWillow and All-I-Need for pointing out some mistakes..


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